Past Indiscretions
by Bazunga
Summary: Tag to BUABS. They underestimated Meg's sadism. She used Sam in more ways than one. Dean has to pick up the pieces, can he save his brother? Warnings inside. Rated M. Very M.
1. Chapter 1

**Rating: Adult.**

** Warnings: ****Rape, violence, depression, nervous breakdown. Triggering stuff, proceed with caution,**** LOTS of angst. **

**Notes: This started out as a Kinkmeme fill. Don't let that put you off. **

**Disclaimers: Don't own. **

**Spoilers: BUABS. **

**Past Indiscretions-Part 1.**

**Then:**

_He was so scared. All through the day Meg had been making noise. Taunting him, laughing at him while she made him walk and talk the way she wanted, showed him a clipshow of violence, and then pushed him back into darkenss. Groaning in obscene pleasure as she watched the life drain from that hunter's eyes ...Through his eyes. She was loud, vocal, but now?_

_Silence. As she approached the motel room. Not a whisper, but he could tell how elated she was. Adrenaline pulsed through him, that was Meg's excitement he was feeling. _

_His hand clenched on the doorknob, he turned it and..._

_Even in this situation his hunter's instincts were working. As she scans the room he counts... Five... There are five men in the room. They're big, most shorter than him but broader, older, more muscled._

_Oh Fuck!_

_"Hello boys!" _

_Meg twists his mouth into a crooked smile that's supposed to be inviting._

**Now:**

He's quiet, in the car, on the way from Bobby's to the fleabag motel they stay in that night .

He tells Dean he remembers some of it, killing the hunter, threatening Jo... Dean knows there's more. There always is.

Dean remembers His Dad once bringing a women back to the motel. He'd been about seven.

John had carried her in, she'd been a wreck, shaking, weeping. John , always, level headed, had wrapped her in a blanket and made her a hot Coffee. Dean has sat quietly on the bed beside his sleeping brother, as John spoke softly to the woman, asking her again and again if she was hurting anywhere. He'd checked her eyes with a flashlight.

She told him , in a low whisper that the Demon had been inside her for three days and three nights. That she thought she'd never get free, she'd started crying again as she thanked him.

"What about now sweetheart? Are you hurting anywhere?"

"All over." She's said. " 'Specially my head."

Then she'd gasped in pain and started bleeding out of her nose, and ears.

John had been so disappointed, so angry with himself.

"Fucking Demons!" He'd muttered through clenched teeth as he'd wrapped her body in a sheet .

Dean, tries to think of something else, tries to distract himself from the unrelenting throb in his shoulder.

Sam leans his head on the window, looking out at the passing , darkened landscape. He looks so sad. Dean has to break the silence.

"You full on had a girl inside you all week... Thats kinda dirty."

Sam doesn't laugh.

Dean immediately regrets saying it.

" You feeling ok Sam?"

"Huh?" Sam raises his head.

"You ok?'

"What do you think?" Sam growls.

"I mean physically. " Dean replies tersely. "Are you hurt?"

"No. " Sam says, a little to fast. " I'm fine."

" You tell me if anything starts to hurt, might not hit you right awa..."

"I said I'm fine Dean!"

"Ok. Bitch! Calm down...Jeez."

Dean sulks. Driving in silence from then on. Casting a hairy eyeball at the passenger seat every so often. Checking, just in case.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

He's right, It doesn't hit right away, but even before they left Bobby's, Sam was starting to feel it. A dull throb, permeating his body, each nerve ending aching.

It's gotten more specific since then, working from head to toe.

The bump on the head he got when the big man with the beard had slammed him into the headboard. The ache of his wrists where he'd been held down, while Meg had squirmed in ecstasy. His throat inside and out. The pain...Down there, that he was trying so hard not to acknowledge right now even through he can feel the dried blood between his thighs.

Every nerve burns now.

Like they did when Meg first jumped him. His whole body cramping in protest as the black vileness forced it's way down his throat.

Like it did when the cigarette smoke burned its way into his lungs and he wanted so badly to cough and couldn't, she'd laughed then. _What's wrong Sammy, not a smoker?_

He coughs now, hard, into his elbow. Dean looking over sharply.

Sam tastes tobacco. Even though he knows it impossible. He tastes tobacco and whisky and...And...

He gags. Oh God... Now Dean is pulling over onto the verge.

"Sam?"

"It's ok." He tries to sound unruffled.

A hand on his shoulder, he flinches violently. Dean's eyes widen, he pulls his hand back, scared now.

"Dean, just keep driving, I'm fine." He wishes he could make his voice level.

"No you're not. You feel sick?"

He cringes at his brother's gentle tone. He doesn't deserve that.

"No, I'm fine." _Fine fine finefinefine._

He's far from fine, never be fine again, _Sammy boy...You like that boy?...Hello boys...Sammy..._

"Sammy!"

Sam turns to his brother with a start. Dean is shaking him, He looks panicked.

"Sammy, what hurts?" Dean demands.

"N...Nothing. It's nothing. "

"Bullshit!"

Sam swallows, gulping down the scream that wants to rip itself out of his throat.

"My shoulder." he admits. Picking the most urgently throbbing part of his body that he can freely mention. "Think it's dislocated."

From how it was twisted. When Meg let him go, just for a second, maybe on purpose or maybe in the throws of one of the many, unwanted orgasms she made him suffer through. He wasn't sure, but she'd lost control for a moment, and he'd thrashed, tried to escape, and the guy who was fucking him...The third one...Twisted his arm.

_"You like it rough boy?"_

If he'd had a second more he could have left the men in no doubt that this was rape... If they would have even cared.

But the Demon had grabbed him again with her iron grip,and stifled his scream.

"Sammy?"

Dean is driving like the devil. His eyes focused on the road, it's started to rain, hard.

''There's a motel up ahead. I'll get us a room and we'll check you out, pop that shoulder back in. Hold on a little longer."

"It's ok." Sam mumbles.

"Shut up." Says Dean.


	2. Chapter 2

**Part 2. **

_There were five of them, then four...One leaves._

_"You got a safe word boy?" Asks a man in heavy work boots and a trucker cap._

_Meg smirks. _

_"Oh! That won't be necessary. " She says , trying to sound seductive. "You see.. I've been a bad, bad boy and..." She sidles close to him, pressing into his crotch, eye to eye. "I need to be punished."_

_Several of the others laugh. "Oh yeah you do!" Someone says lustfully. _

_An awful hopelessness overcomes Sam. He'd tried everything to wrestle control back from her. If he couldn't do it while she was killing Steve Wandell he certainly couldn't do it now. _

_The guy looks sceptical. _

_"I don't play those kind of games." He says. He grips Sam's chin and looks him in the eye. "You really into this Kid?"_

_Sam screams in his head. __**No! nonononono! PLEASE, Help me!**_

_Meg laughs , a throaty chuckle. "I wouldn't be here otherwise buddy."_

_But there must have been something in his eyes. _

_"Kid?" The guys asks again. He stares at him for a long moment. Meg smiles at him._

_"Yeah big boy?"_

_The guy looks at his cohorts in semi disgust. "I'm out." He says gruffly, pushing Sam away from him. He leaves the room, slamming the door behind him. _

_**NO! Don't leave me here! Please! **_

_Meg's loving this. __**Cool it Sammy, they're pro's. Rock hard, all night stamina , every last one. You're gonna be into this, you just don't know it yet.**_

_"What was his problem?" Meg asks the room at large. Cocking her head to one side in mock innocence._

_One of the men shrugs. "Who cares." He says with a sickening grin, as he approaches. "More for us!" _

Dean pulls into the parking lot. Off season, they're the only car there. _Good_ he thinks, _none of Wandell's friends to cause us problems... Yet._

The room is dingy, but clean..Ish, the florescent light bulb flickers for a moment before throwing everything into stark , sickly yellow relief.

Dean heads back out to the car. Sam is huddled in the passenger seat, pale as a sheet. His lips are moving.

Dean open's the door and crouches down. His brother's eyes are glassy. He's shivering.

"Sam?"

"Dean Dean Dean Dean."

Sam repeats his name under his breath like a disturbing mantra.

"Sam?" Dean puts his hand on Sam's forehead, checking for a fever. Sam draws back with a strangled cry pushing himself into the seat so hard he might just disappear into it. His eyes focus on his brother.

"Dean?"

"You're a bit warm there bro." Dean says softly. "I don't know what that bitch did to you but you look beat to hell. Let's check you out, c'mon." He says , reaching down with his good arm to pull Sam up.

Dean really starts to worry when Sam whimpers at the touch on his arm and tries to back into the driver's seat. That sound of hysteria is something he's never heard form his brother before.

_He hasn't been with anyone since Jess. Scratch that, he hasn't been with anyone __**except**__ Jess. Not so much as a one night stand. She wasn't kinky, he's never, ever done anything like this, never wanted to. _

_He'd always feel guilty asking her to do this, even when she claimed to like it. He hoped to God she'd been telling the truth now._

_Here he was on his knees taking the third one. Meg deep throats like a pro. It hurts, he never realised before, his jaw aches, he can taste blood running down the back of his throat. Meg grips the man's hips as he thrusts hard, Swallows. He wants to crawl out of his skin, as he feels the salty fluid running down his throat._

_**Say Sammy?**__ Meg wonders casually. __**Ya think any of these guys have been tested for STDs?**_

_**Why don't you just kill me?**__ He asks, in shocky misery, curled halfway into his own subconscious._

_**Kill you? where would be the fun in that?**__ She replies and pulls him out into his body, so he can feel every last sensation. _

_**Besides, Sam, I'm trying to send a message here, make a point.**_

_She spits out the softening cock and smiles, licking his lips._

_"Who's next?" she asks brightly._

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Sam falls out of the car, the wet gravel grazing his hands and knees, and pukes. He vomits and gags until he's sure he's gong to choke. He feels an arm around his waist and he's pulled up.

It hurts to stand, pain spiking up his spine like fire. He cries out and his knees buckle. Dean catches him with a curse, as Sam's wight pulls at the bullet wound.

"Easy Sammy!"

He tries to say "Sorry" but no sound comes out. Dean drags him into the room, pausing to unlock the door while Sam leans on him, a dead-weight. He tries to stand on his own feet, but the pain shoots through him again, he sways. His vision Grays out and the next thing he knows he's being set down onto the motel bed.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

_**How the hell can't these guys tell that somethings wrong?**__ A small part of him asks. _

_**I'm a great actress that's why.**__ Meg snarls at him. __**Now lay back and enjoy it you whiny little bitch!**_

_He's lying against someone's chest, he can feel the course hair pressing into his back, the disgusting breath by his ear, whispers of encouragement._

_"Yeah baby, that's it, you're doing good you little slut. You like that huh? That's the sweet spot." The man whispers, increasing his grip on Sam's wrists. His erection rubbing against Sam's lower back. There's another guy kneeling between his legs. _

_He feels so sick, If Meg wasn't in him he's sure he'd throw up. He winces internally at the stretch of the other man's fingers twisting and massaging inside him. Meg loosens her grip slightly when a wave of pleasure hits. Two sets of hands holding his thigh's apart grip down too hard as he bucks, involuntarily tightening on the fingers. _

_Meg is aroused, so his body is too. At least, he thinks that how it works. He hopes that he wouldn't react like this if it was just him. He knows she gets off on his pain, the more it hurts the more she encourages them. _

_He's on the edge of coming again, dry this time, it hurts, too much, his head rolls back against the man's shoulder and Meg moans. If he's honest the guys been rubbing that spot for so long that the lines have begun to blur. He's not entirely sure where Meg's pleasure ends and his begins. _

_**Think this is all me Sammy?**__ she taunts __**lets see what happens when I let you go.**__ He feels her retreat, he can move again. Just as the forced orgasm hits. A choked sob escapes from his throat as his hips stutter and his muscles clench hard then relax. The man is relentless, he continues the gentle, but firm movement of his fingers against that spot. _

_"Please!" He whimpers __**stop**__. It's too late, Meg let him have his second of freedom. __**See Winchester? You like it just as much as I do. **_

_"Good boy, let see if you can do that again." The man whispers in his ear, kissing his neck._

_He feels the pressure change and the fingers slide out as his thighs are pulled further apart. He wants to shut his eyes or turn his head away as the guy between his legs changes position and lines up to fuck him. He becomes outright hysterical when the man holding him shift's position too. The head of his cock slipping lower_

_"Think he can take you both?" Asks one of the men holding his legs. _

_"Wadda ya think kid?" Asks the guy behind him. "You able for that?"_

_**Please Meg, please. don't let them do this!**__ He begs.__** Meg please you can't you cant do this to me Please!**_

_Meg laughs maniacally. __**Don't worry kiddo! I won't let you bleed to death.**_

_**Evil BITCH!**__ He yells in his head. _

_"Oh Boys!" She gasps, so turned on by the idea that he feels himself getting hard again. " I thought you'd never ask!"_

_xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx_

Dean stands at the foot of the bed. Having deposited Sam there. Sam look awful, half sitting, half lying on one side, shivering. He wants to hug him, and tell him it's ok, like he would have when they were kids. But he has to make sure his brother really _is_ ok.

He does the visual triage his father taught him to do. Starting with the head. He's very pale, blood loss? Cold, shock? Could be any of those. His pupils don't look dilated but he'd have to check that. No nose or ear bleed that he can see.

Shoulders, he's favoring one, clutching his arm so it doesn't pull at the socket. Shivering could be cold, pain, fever...Opiate withdrawal? He wouldn't put it passed the bitch. Get Sammy addicted to Heroin, leave Dean to pick up the pieces. He has no illusions. He knows she messed with Sam for one reason only, to get at him.

He's obviously in pain, beat up from the fight with Wandell sure, but throwing up and not being able to walk? Fever and perhaps hallucinations? Dean decides that drug withdrawal might be a best case scenario.

He sits beside Sam, takes his hand and starts rolling up his sleeve. Sam looks at him like he's just grown another head.

"W...What the hell are you doing Dean?"

"Checking for track marks." Dean tells him, business like. Checking the underside of his brother's right arm, lightly touching the inside of his elbow, looking for the telltale marks. He finds none. Now he's starting to worry, cause the alternatives are so much worse.

"Wh...I don't think..." Sam tries to pull away. Dean counters by gripping his wrist and Sam's eyes widen as he hisses in pain.

Dean immediately softens his grip and examines Sam's wrist. Quickly pulling up the other sleeve to expose the identical purple-black fingerprint shaped bruises , telling of a near crushing grip.

"What happened here Sam?" Dean asks, the concern in his voice amping up a notch.

"Don't know." Sam says quietly. "Don't remember."

Dean would have written it off as a injury in a fight and taken Sam's word for it. He really would. But Sam's voice is thin and shocky. Also the kid isn't looking at him, he's looking down at the bedspread, and Dean knows when he's being lied to.

"Sammy. How did you get these?" he asks again.

When Sam won't speak, he takes his chin between his thumb and index finger and forces him to make eye contact. His eyes are swimming with tears.

"Sammy!" He says sharply. "What happened?"

Sam shakes his head, trying desperately not to cry, he swallows thickly.

"Nothing happened...I... I don't remember."

"It's either one or the other Sam!"

Dean starts to panic at the sight of his brother in obvious denial. His voice rises and Sam winces. He's starting to hyperventilate. Dean takes a deep breath, tries to calm himself.

"Sam what's the rule about injuries? The one Dad taught us?"

Sam says nothing, staring at the bedspread, blinking back tears.

"You don't hide an injury...Ever! You know that Sammy! Now you tell me what that bitch did or I'm going to check you over myself until I find out!"

He knows he's being harsh but he's sure as hell not going to let his brother do this. He's behaving as though he's in physical shock and Dean knows that _doesn't_ happen without a reason.

When Sam pulls away from him and tries to leave the bed, Dean takes action. "No you don't, 'c'mere!" He Mutters. Pulling Sam back toward him. He flips him onto his back and starts to unbutton his shirt.

That's when things really start to fall apart.


	3. Chapter 3

**Part 3:**

_**You know Sam, it's really hard for me to relax with you making all that noise, and trust me baby boy, you'll want to be relaxed for this.**_

_Sam can't seem to stop begging her. He so desperately wants to be stoic about this but something in him just snaps. _

_**Please Meg! Please, make him stop! You don't have to do this! **_

_**Well look at you! A hunter, trying to appeal to a demon's sense of decency. That's hilarious! **__She giggles girlishly. _

_Sam squirms on the head of the man's cock. The big guy behind him (who Sam had christened "Hulk.") Grabs his upper arms and pulls him closer, whispering promises of "double that" while his friend continues to push against his tense muscles, slowly penetrating him. Tears are burning behind his eyes but he knows they won't fall and betray his true feelings, Meg is moaning like a porn-star._

_"So Hot!" She groans, "Just Fuck me already!" She pushes back against the intrusion and pain blinds him. _

_**I hate you!**__ He tells her._

_"Hurry up already!" she gasps in retaliation. "I can take it!"_

_The guy's face is dripping sweat from the strain of not tearing into him. He gasps and withdraws suddenly. Causing Meg to whimper. _

_"What's the deal Boy?" He sounds angry. "You lying to me?"_

_Now it's Meg's turn to be confused. "Wh...Why'd you stop?"_

_The guy snorts derisively and nods at Hulk. _

_"Feel him."_

_"Wha?" _

_"I said feel him!"_

_Sam feels the man's hand slide off his arm and wander lower, lingering between his legs, stroking his perineum. Meg is amused, and a little curious. , __**What are these jokers up to?**_

_She cries out and hardens as he pushes a thick finger inside the bruised passage. Sam's humiliation and pain getting her off. _

_"Wow!." The guy raises an eyebrow. "He'd barely take one of us let alone two!"_

_"I know right?' "Mr Sensitive looks at the thugs either side of him " I've bin working him open for how long? Lube and all, and he's still too tight to get into! Something wrong with you boy!" He says accusingly. "You say one thing and your ass says another!."_

_Meg laughs then. "Oh well aren't you a sensitive flower! " _

_Sam is helpless in his horror as she spits in the man's face. He's frozen for a moment, then slowly wipes the saliva off his cheek, frowning._

_"That's how you want it huh?"_

_He backhands Sam across the face. Slamming his head into the big guy's shoulder._

_"Well I'm not usually one for the rough stuff but if you still want a double whammy I'm sure my friends Rod", he indicates one of the two men holding Sam's legs, "and Tod." He indicates the other side. "Would be more than happy to loosen you up for us. What do you think dude?" He asks the big one._

_"Sounds like quite a show!" Proclaims Hulk with a crooked grin. Standing, he drags Sam up with him and throws him violently onto the bed."He's all yours guys!" _

_He lands face down but Meg makes sure to scramble up on all fours, and turn immediately. She doesn't want him to miss this. _

_Sam is terrified as "Rod" and "Tod" get up and approach the bed, their faces twisted into the most lascivious expressions he's ever seen. _

_Meg Is fucking __**delighted**__. She stares at them with just the right about of "Turned on" and "apprehensive." _

_**See Sammy?**__ She taunts __**this is what happens when you don't relax.**_

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

"Don't! No! STOP! DEAN!"

Sam is squirming violently enough that he's probably exacerbating whatever injuries he has already. His eyes are shut tight, but he keeps lashing out with his arms and Legs.

"Please! Please! DEAN!"

There's something deeply disturbing about the tone in his voice. 'Cause Dean knows the kid better than he knows himself and thats not a tone he's heard before. And the way he's saying his name? He's not sure if he's yelling at him or yelling for help.

Dean doesn't know what to do. He's wary of hurting Sam's shoulder, and is struggling to keep him still with one arm, but at the same time he's trying to wrestle his brother's T-shirt off over his head. Sam has managed to squirm out from under, and has slid off the end of the bed like he did when he was three and didn't want to put his PJs on. Dean kneels in front of him on the floor.

"Dammit Sammy! It's ok! Just calm down and let me see!" Dean growls as he carefully stretches the fabric over his frantic brother's head, Sam is panting now, worn out, his breath fast and ragged.

Freeing him of the T-shirt at last. Dean throws it aside and takes a look at his brother's torso. His jaw drops.

_No!_

His brain blanks the implications of the marks on Sam's body and he robotically catalogues them, like he's been taught. John's voice echoing in hie head. _Just take it one thing at a time Dean._

_Throat...Marks of strangulation, shoulders, one swollen, bruised, clearly dislocated, the other...Has been bitten..._

He takes a deep, even breath.

... _Chest, scratches, more bite marks, severe bruising,maybe broken ribs. Stomach, bruises, scratches, and more bite marks..._ He can't see below the waistband of Sam's Jeans. _Wrists badly bruised, upper arms, badly bruised...From being held down._

He lowers his head and takes three deep breaths. Trying to dispel the detached feeling he's experiencing.

"Open your eyes Sammy!" He demands, holding Sam's face in his hands. "Open your eyes!"

Sam doesn't open them. But at the contact his breathing speeds up from nothing to 90. Dean feels his pulse at his neck. Racing.

He pulls Sam forward by the upper arms and looks at his back.

_Back..._ A sob catches in his throat. _Definitely broken ribs... Badly bruised, scratches, welts from...Maybe a belt? Hand..._ He pushes Sam back against the bed and holds his face again. Sam is tense, tremmors racking his body, eyes clenched shut. Dean wipes a hand over his own eyes.

_Hand shaped bruises ...On his hips...Just above the waistband of his jeans._ He sees something out of the corner of his eye.

"Nononononono!" He mutters as he un-button's Sam and slides his jeans down a little. _Blood on the beadspread._

Even with the signs there, he hates the fact that he thought of it, that his mind went there. That shouldn't be something he'd ever associate with Sammy. It's a betrayal even to think it. To think of that in connection with someone you love.


	4. Chapter 4

**Part 4**

He remembers it in bits and pieces. He knows it's not Meg's doing, she wanted him to remember all of it. His own mind blanked some of it.

But other parts are clear, looming out of the haze in horrible starkness.

_Hand's on his hips, nails scratching his back. The feeling of a man's beard rubbing against his neck, the sounds they made. _

The pain had been blurry, but he was feeling it now, something torn... Inside, _so scared, gonna die. _

_The weight of someone on top of him. Movements that should have been gentle becoming increasingly violent. Meg's groans and whimpers of pleasure encouraging them. Someone slaps his face. "Wake up! Look at me!"_

"Sammy , look at me!"

He knows, on some level, that Dean is there, but Dean doesn't know, can't know, what he'll see if he opens his eyes. Or Maybe Dean isn't there after all. Just _them._

_Someone bites down on his shoulder and draws blood, he tightens around them. Hurtshurtshurts! Meg fighting back, getting rough, shouting profanity at them until they get angry. Strong arms hold him face down and Meg retreats. Meg laughs because she knows that if she wanted to she could throw these guys around the room. But the only one she really wants to beat up is him. _

_Someone takes off their belt and lays it on thick, slapping the leather against his skin again and again. Until Sam can feel the blood running down his back. _

_Meg yelling "Is that all you've got you fucking pussy!" _

_So the man loops the belt through the buckle and puts it around his throat instead. Pulling it tight while someone else starts fucking him... Again._

_"Sammy? Sammy!" A slap to the face._

_A kick in the groin. Someone takes it too far and even Meg feels it. It knocks the wind out of her_

_**Whoah! So that's what you boys get so upset about! You know I've been taking a back seat from the pain part but even I felt that!**_

_Then he looks up from the floor at the four men and there is uncertainty there in some of the eyes. Someone helps him stand. _

_They take him to the bed, apologising, kissing him, four sets of hands touching him, running over his body until He can't stand it and is arching against them. _

_No... Meg. Meg is rubbing herself all over them, not him. _

_He is crouched somewhere in the corner of his mind crying for his brother, his dad. Anyone. _

_She asks if they're ready to have some __**real**__ fun. Mr Sensitive asks "Are you serious?" She bites Sam's lip and nods. _

_So the hulk moves behind him again, his arms on Sam's hips, pulling him back into his lap. Down onto his length. It's easier this time but it hurts more. It hurts so much. The big man lies back, pulling Sam with him. Then Mr Sensitive rubs a lubed finger around... Down there... __**Sammy you are such a little prude!**__... Then he pushes it inside too. _

_Meg groans so provocatively that the two guys watching simultaneously palm their cocks. _

_**Why are you doing this to me?**__ He whimpers._

_**This Sam?**__ She replies, resentment evident. __**This is just a taste of what I got in Hell!**_

_Suddenly he understands. _

_**You're punishing me.**_

_**Not just you Sammy. In fact, consider yourself the cane that I will use to beat your brother. **_

_The finger is moving in and out, in and out, stretching him. The rhythm becomes a dull throb of pain. Then it's gone. And the man is moving between his thighs, Meg spreads wide for him. _

_He screams in agony, but Meg is happy so it comes out as a laugh. He listens to the grunts and groans of both men. The deep, rumbling whispers of encouragement in his ear, he doesn't even know what the man is saying but his voice is soft. He' s always moved towards that tone for comfort. _

_Sam hopes, for the first time, that he will die before the demon vacates his body, so that he won't have to deal with the aftermath of this. _

_xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx_

Sam goes batshit insane when Dean attempts to take a look at him. Gently pulling the fabric of his jeans and underwear away from his body.

His eyes open suddenly and he pulls back, bumping into the bed behind him with a full throated scream.

"NO!"

Dean draws back, his hands raised placating-ly. He's never seen Sam this terrified.

"NO!" STOP!" Sam screams again. Then his face crumples and he lets out a heartbreaking wail. "Sorry!." He sobs. Shaking his head. "I'm sorry! I'm sorry!"

_**Nice try Sammy, but your apology is a couple of centuries late.**_

_Meg snarks at him. He can feel her anger coursing through his body. He knows she won't show him any mercy but he continues to say it. _

"Sorry!"

"Shhhh. It's ok. You don't have to be sorry, you didn't do anything wrong."

He comes to slowly. Opens his eyes. Everything hurts He feels awful, but realizes it must be over. Someone's arms are around him. He's not on the bed anymore, He's on the floor, he thinks...

His chest is still rising and falling in spasmodic sobs, his head is resting on... Dean's shoulder, against the soft, over-washed flannel of his brother's shirt. Dean is gently rocking back and forth.

" It's ok Sammy, all over now, Shhhhh." He relaxes at his' brothers gruff tone

"Dean?" He whispers hoarsely ,hardly daring to believe it.

"Yeah, Sammy, it's me, just me here, you're safe."

"Sorry."

"Shhhhhhh." Dean comforts him, gently rubbing circles on his back. Sam winces as Dean's hand touches his shoulder. At the sudden movement, Dean whispers in Sam's ear.

''I know there's nothing you want to do less right now bro, but you're going to have to let me fix you up."

Sam stiffens. He can't he cant let Dean see the evidence of what happened.

_**Consider yourself the cane I will use to beat you brother.**_

_Dean blames himself, always, especially for things that happen to me._ Sam thinks. _Besides, this one? This was all on me._

" Sammy, we can't go to a hospital, there are hunters looking for us." Dean says softly. "Sammy I know you're hurting and you're scared and that you're afraid of what I'll think but... You're my little brother... I have to, Ok?"

Stupid Dean and his stupid logic. Sam nods reluctantly.

"Good boy."

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

_When Sam was five or six. Old enough to ride a bike but too young to go outside by himself, he and Dean had been staying at a house in a cul de sac in some nondescript suburb. It must have been in the southwest. The earth was red and the mountains flat on top. Nicer than the usual places. He didn't remember where Dad was that day, maybe on a hunt or maybe working somewhere._

_It was a really hot, sunny day. He and a neighbor kid had been playing, skateboarding down the big ( or at least to him it was big ) hill outside their house. Dean was sitting on the stoop reading a comic book, keeping an eye on them._

_Anyway, Sam, being less versed in skating technique than he pretended, took a tumble on the hill at high speed and wound up skidding though the gravel in his shorts an T shirt. Grazing his arms and legs and all the way up one side of his little body. _

_It really hurt. _

_He can remember the horrible feeling of trying to scream for his brother, but no sound coming out because he'd had the wind knocked out of him. _

_"Sammy!" He could hear Dean yell, and the sound of his sneakers on the stones. But he couldn't reply. He just sat there, in shock._

_Then, the next thing he knew, Dean was there. Back in the days when Dean still dwarfed him. His big brother was on the gravel, cocooning him with his whole body as though he was trying to absorb the pain. Sam inhaled for what felt like an hour before he finally started crying, loudly, into Deans chest. Not caring that his nose was running and the neighbor kid was watching_

_It had never occurred to Sam at that age that Dean was only 4 years older than him. As far as he was concerned Dean was an adult. He had all the answers and could fix anything. And he had._

_Thinking about it now, it must have been horribly intimidating to a ten year old child to have to patch up a screaming, bleeding youngster but he'd but on a damn good show, and Sam had never sensed any insecurity from Dean that day. Of course in retrospect he'd probably been patching up Dad for several years at that point. _

_He'd carried him inside and sat him down on the closed toilet lid, undressed him , hissing sympathetically at the grazed skin while he'd run the bath. Sam still crying and shaking. Dean talking softly, narrating his own movements. _

_" It's ok Sammy, It's ok. There we go, I'll put the water on there," he felt the temperature."Not too warm. Then I'll put this in. " _

_He took a bottle out of the cabinet and poured some dark liquid into the bath._

_"Wh...What's th..that?" Sam hiccuped. Curiosity peaked. _

_"iodine." Dean informed him. _

_"Iodine hurts!" Sam exclaimed, ready to run from ,what looked like, the worst torture ever. _

_"No, It doesn't hurt if it's in water." Dean explained. "It's good for you, you won't get infections."_

_"What are infections?"_

_"When a cut goes bad...C'mon buddy, you're gonna be just fine. " _

_He lifted Sam into the luke warm water and cleaned the grazes with a washcloth. Sam watched as the water turned rusty red. He was never sure how much of it had been blood, how much iodine an how much the red dirt from the driveway. _

Must have been the dirt. Cause iodine goes yellow in water, and the water in this bath is pink. Blood turns water pink.

Sam thinks back to better times, when everything was fixable, and he was the one crying , not Dean.

He hates it when Dean cries. It's the end of the world when Dean cries, and he's crying now. Quietly, as he sits on the edge of the tub and, very gently, wipes the injuries on Sam's upper body with some cotton wool. It has something on it that hurts like hell until he rinses it with luke warm water from the bath.

The bath has something in it too. For infections.

He can hear Dean stifle another sob as he dabs a bite mark on his shoulder.

"' 's ok." Sam murmurs.

"Huh..?"

"It's ok Dean."

Dean works silently for a moment until he gets a little too low and Sam winces in pain. Dean puts a hand on his brother's shoulder and leans over to look him in the eye. He hasn't even tried to wipe the tears away, he has salt on his eyelashes.

"It's not ok." He states blankly. Before taking a fresh bit of cotton from the first aid box.


	5. Chapter 5

**Part 5:**

He's lying face down. Soft, white sheet covering him. White pillow.

Something drips onto the pillow. Red blossoming on the cotton, _drip,drip,_ something cold dripping onto the back of his neck, down his arms, his spine. _Red, red, red_ drops all over the white sheet.

Blood.

More drops, pattering like rain on the sheet.

"Dean." He calls. He feels like he's calling out through thick air, or like he's underwater.

The sheet beneath him is sticky with blood, his hair is dripping. It's cold, freezing.

"Dean. Blood! DEAN!"

There's a voice close to his ear, a hand squeezes the back of his neck. Partially formed words float down into his conciseness like feathers. The volume rises and falls.

"Shhhh... s ok ... ammy ... ot...real...orphine."

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Morphine.

It's always the last choice. But in this case right one. Even if it has his brother moaning about blood and rain.

He'd wanted to get Sam good and drugged up before he'd popped the shoulder back in. It hadn't helped that much. Sam had screamed and passed out from pain anyway.

He rests his hand on Sam's forehead. He's hot. Not surprising given the number of dirty wounds on his body. He's shivering , sobbing something about the cold.

"God dammit!" he mutters, running a hand through his hair. This is all they needed.

At least the bleeding hadn't been as severe as he thought. He guessed that the tearing had been bad but had a chance to heal a bit while Meg was inside for the few days afterward. None the less, he was still bleeding a little, even through the gauze and cotton. Dean would have to change it soon.

_What if it doesn't stop? _A nasty voice in his head asks. _What if he dies of an infection or internal bleeding while you sit there with your thumb up your ass?_

He sits on the edge of the bed, careful not to disturb Sam. He looks sorrowfully at his brother and wonders what happened. There had definitely been more than one attacker. How many? He wonders, for how long? Demons or people? Whatever they were they'd been violent, and the whole thing had been sustained.

He must have been so scared.

"Dean...Falling!"

Dean puts a hand on the back of Sam's head.

"It's ok Sammy. I'm here, I've got you."

"I'm falling!"

"Shhh." He strokes Sam's head. "It's just the drugs."

Sam sobs into the pillow.

He makes a list in his head:

_Painkillers, fever reducers strong antibiotics, gauze and cotton, iodine and arnica. What else? Oh yeah, a fucking x-ray machine and a surgeon. Not to mention a trauma physiologist._He knows in his heart that this is not a first aid patch up job.

He'll have to break into the local pharmacy after dark... But that means leaving Sam alone.

How the hell were they going to get over this? Jesus. Dad would have killed him for letting this happen. This was it. The worst case scenario come alive in technicolor.

Dad used to be big on the old self reliance. Didn't believe in letting other people fix your mistakes, or in asking for help. He passed it on to Dean.

But even he'd had his exceptions.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

_Dean remembered old Sully Cormack. A skinny rat of a man that he and his father used to occasionally hunt with when he was a teenager. He'd looked weak and shrimpy but the wiry bastard could pull out the stops when he wanted to. _

_He'd make comments, if Dean slipped up or couldn't keep up with the older men. Nasty little innuendoes when no one else was around. Comments about Dean's appearance or voice, usually with the implication that he was gay. _

_Dean had shrugged off, hunters were usually assholes with massive chips on their shoulders. Which was why he and Dad hunted alone if they could. He could handle Sully. Sully was harmless really._

_Except he wasn't._

_One hunt, he and Dad had dropped Sammy off with Pastor Jim and headed out with Sully to the Blue Ridge Mountains, tracking a pair of werewolves. _

_Well, long story short , he'd been designated first for campfire watch on the first night, He'd been sitting there minding his own, when Sully opened the front of his tent and called him over._

_"What do you want Sully?" Dean whispered, crouching down to look through the tent flap. _

_"Looks awful cold out there." Sully observed. "Thought you might like to come keep me company."_

_"What?" Dean spit incredulously. _

_"C'mon Dean, don't be a bitch about it, don't pretend you're not into it."_

_"You have got to be kidding me!" Dean had rolled his eyes and gone back to the fire. _

_"Suit yourself __**princess.**__" Sully had said, and zipped up his tent. _

_Dean kept a close eye on the tent flap and slept with his gun cocked that night. He knew he could take Sully in a fight but he still felt uneasy. _

_Sully sulked most of the next day, avoiding them, walking a few paces ahead, silently. Dean pretended not to notice but he could tell John was confused. _

_"Hey Ace, you and Sully have a fight or something?" He'd asked at one point. _

_Dean had shaken his head and shrugged. _

_As evening drew in Sully had started drinking from a silver hip flask. By the time Dean, once again, sat down for first watch, Sully was really wasted. _

_He'd exited his tent and sat down beside Dean on the log. _

_"Had a good day kid?" Sully slurred. _

_Dean pointedly didn't reply, choosing instead to stare into the trees and finger the trigger of his gun. Hoping the idiot got the message. _

_"Ah now don't be like that." Sully had said, trying to placate him. "You can't hold yesterday against me. You with a face like that, you must get it all the time. "_

_"Sully." Dean said softly. "I'm only going to say this once, go back to your tent, Now."_

_"You wanna join me? You do, I can tell."_

_"For the last time Sully. I aint doing anything with you, __**ever.**__ Now fuck off."_

_Sully put a hand on his thigh and Dean had jumped and cried out. Sully rubbed his hand up and down. Dean knew he should be on his feet, pointing his rifle in Sully's fucking face, but for some reason he froze. And before he knew what was happening Sully's tongue was half way down his throat. _

_Then Sully was tackled to the ground by John, He'd been awake, heard everything. __**Shit!**_

_Baring the brunt of John winchester's rage was something no one in their right mind would volunteer for. To this day Dean was not sure why Sully hadn't considered the risks. John had fucked up his face beyond repair in five seconds but Dean had managed to drag his father off the guy before he killed him._

_John had looked at Dean with utter rage. and Dean was sure he'd really done it this time. _

_"Get in the tent Dean."_

_"Dad.." _

_"Now!" _

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

_Dean crouched in the tent, listening to his father's muffled words through the canvass. As he tied a semi-conscious Sully to a tree at the edge of the camp. No doubt he'd call the rangers after the hunt was over, but Sully was going to have plenty of time to think about his choices until then. Unless, of course the werewolves got him first. _

_"You're fucking lucky I don't castrate you right now you bastard... __**No one**__ fucks with my kids, you got it? No one... __**EVER!**__"_

_There was the sound of a punch and a groan of pain._

_Dean flinched as John raised his voice. He drew back when he heard the zipper on the tent being pulled. John crawled in beside him. Dean was sure he was in for an ass beating. He just wished he knew what for._

_"Dad...I swear...I was gonna stop him I just..."_

_John pulled him into a tight hug, squeezing all the air out of his lungs. _

_"Are you ok?"_

_Dean was so taken aback that, much to his mortification, he'd stated to cry._

_"Did he hurt you?" John's eyes searched his body for signs of an assault. "Dean?"_

_Dean shook his head forcefully. "No...I promise..."_

_"Has he tried anything like this before?" John's words were rushed, almost hysterical. Dean was frightened, he'd never seen his dad like this before. _

_"Dean, answer me! The truth!"_

_Dean nodded hesitantly. "H... Hit on me a couple of times... last few days...I thought I could handle it. S...Sorry Dad."_

_"Why are you apologising?" John was genuinely mystified._

_"I..." Dean looked away. _

_"Dean, I'm not mad at you. I'm mad at __**him**__."_

_When Dean didn't answer, John took his face between his hands and looked him in the eye._

_"Dean, how would you feel If he'd' done that to Sammy?"_

_Dean gulped down rising bile at the thought. _

_"That's how I feel right now."_

_Dean nodded._

_"You listen to me and you listen good. With our usual playmates there are rules. But with people"... He indicated the tent flap... "There's just crazy. That's a lot more dangerous than any monster ...Now Dean I'm giving you an __**order**__ you understand?"_

_"Yes sir." _

_"Anything like this happens again, to you, or your brother, or anyone you know, any sexual stuff? You don't try and deal with it yourself, you understand me boy? You never try and handle that alone. You got me?"_

"Yes sir."

"Fuck it Dad! "

Dean muttered, pacing the floor. He knew this was beyond him. But Sam? Could he handle it? After he healed up and was lucid would he be able to live with anyone else knowing?

_If he heals up. _

At that thought Dean made up his mind and dialled the phone


	6. Chapter 6

**Part 6:**

Sam knows its the drugs, he keeps checking in and out of his own head. He's sure he can hear Dean talking to him, but can't focus. Then he's gone, far away, for a long time, months, years even. Then he's back again and Dean's still talking.

"...Otel...Es...I don't know...Y..."

He moves his head and can see his brother pacing up and down, phone to his ear.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

It's weird. She knows its him when the phone rings, before she's even looks at the screen.

She turns over in bed and groans, her head still hurts from the minor concussion she sustained getting slammed against the counter by that demonic fucker.

"Dean?"

_"Jo."_

Something in his voice..._Oh God._

"Dean are you ok? Mom just called from the roadhouse. There are some pretty pissed hunters looking for you... "

_"It was Meg." _He informs her. She knows immediately what he's referring to.

"Meg...The Demon from Chicago?" She asks. "Dean is Sam..?" She trails off. God forbid Dean had to hurt his brother.

_"She was mad..."_ He murmurs, there's a hitch in his breath. _"At me...For sending her back to Hell...She...She took it out on Sammy."_

She swallows a rising lump in her throat.

"Dean is he...?"

_"No, No he's alive...But...God ...Jo!"_

"What did she do Dean?" She asks. Dreading the answer. Her heart rate skyrockets when she realizes he's crying. "Dean what happened?"

He sniffs, and takes a deep breath, attempting to pull himself together.

_"Jo is it safe for you to travel? I mean, without being followed? I...I need some help."_

She shudders. Dean winchester doesn't ask for help. Not from her.

_"I can't ask Bobby, they'll be watching him and your Mom..."_

"It's ok Dean." She calms him. "It's ok, As far as I know, no one has been snooping around here. Where are you?"

_"Sparrow Motel. Near Pine Falls...And Jo...Bring a med kit if you have one."_

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_What happened?_ He wonders _Does he have a hunt? I can't hunt. I can't even move! Is he going to leave?_

"Don't leave." He tries to say, but his jaw feels too heavy to work.

He must have made a sound because Dean looks up at him, walks over and places a hand on his forehead. Sam wants to somehow melt into his brothers hand so that he can't leave him here alone.

Dean's face is level with his. His eyes shadowed with exhaustion but earnest. His lips are moving but Sam can't hear him.

"...ammy...onna...ust...ine..."

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

"Don't be scared Sammy. Every things Going to be just fine."

Dean lies. The kids running a fever, his eyes are glassy, He's clearly in pain even while stoned on the meds. Crap!

_''Dean?'' _Jo is still on the phone.

"Yeah."

_''I can make it in a couple of hours.''_

"Thanks." He mumbles and shuts off the phone.

He didn't want to involve her, especially since Meg had roughed her up. God dammit he didn't want to involve anyone but he couldn't do this alone and The thought of telling Bobby... He could never tell Bobby... It would break the old man's heart.

Jo could keep a secret and she was practical. Aside from that she was a woman, and Sam would be less likely to freak out... He hoped.

He refilled the ice bucket , opened a water bottle and placed a straw in it.

When he re-entered the room Sam was mumbling something, over and over, whimpering. He leaned over his brother to hear him better.

"Don't Go." Was the whispered refrain. _Ah God Sammy!_

Dean placed his hand between Sam's shoulder blades, and gently rubbed a circle over the bruised, swollen skin.

"Shhh...It's ok...I'm not going anywhere." He assured him. "I'm right here."

He gripped the bottle with the other hand and held the straw to Sam's lips.

'Drink some water for me Sammy." He said softly, but firmly. Sam didn't oblige, zoned out again.

"Come on buddy." He tried again patiently. After a few minutes of coaxing, Sam seemed to come back to himself and attempted a half hearted swallow of water. He grimaced.

"Good Boy!" Dean smiled. "Not enough though, you're dehydrated dude, you need to drink some more ok?'

"Hurts." Sam croaked.

"Drinking?" Dean asked, nonplussed for a moment.

"Throat."

"Your throat hurts? Even just a sip?"

Sam nodded.

"Too much...Too many...Didn't know..." He shook his head violently. "They hurt...Don't want..." He attempted to push himself up.

"Shhhh..." Dean began rubbing circles on his back again. " Stay still! It's ok, you're safe now."

" They didn't know!" Sam whispered imploringly, staring at Dean wide eyed as though begging to be believed. "Dean I'm sorry!"

Dean stared at his brother, examining his feverish face.

"Sam?" You didn't do anything wrong ok? I understand."

"I couldn't tell them...Sh...She made me! I tried to fight her..." He sobbed suddenly and turned his face away. "I'm sorry!"

Dean couldn't reply, his throat had closed up with repressed tears. He ran a hand through his brother's dirty hair again and again, hoping to communicate to him, through his drugged haze, the only thing he wanted to say:

_Not you fault little brother._


	7. Chapter 7

**Part 7. **

She never thought she was capable of such paranoia. She changed clothes, hid her hair under a hat and slunk out of her apartment like a thief. She even drove with her lights off until she was well into the middle of nowhere just to be safe.

The motel is shoddy, no surprises there, a half dead flickering neon dive with grey walls. She doesn't need to search for their room, only one car in the parking lot and it wasn't inconspicuous.

_Idiots._ She mutters under her breath.

She knocks. Jo jumps when he opens, shocked at how she finds him. He looks around the door frame like a frightened kid and his eyes are puffy and red, like he's been crying for hours.

_There must be some kind of mistake. Dean Winchester doesn't cry. _Her brain tells her. But here he is.

"Come in." He whispers, looking outside, fretfully, as he ushers her into the room.

There's a smell of disinfectant and blood. God she wished she didn't know what that smelled like. Sam is lying in one of the beds on his stomach. Not sleeping but not exactly awake either. His breathing is fast and he's murmuring feverishly.

She had been afraid, she'd admit. To see him again after what happened. She knew, logically, from the moment he had gotten violent that it wasn't him, and she knew it wasn't his fault but still... She had been worried about seeing him again so soon.

She had wondered if he'd remember any of it and if he would feel bad. maybe apologize. She'd been afraid of that too. Truthfully, she'd always liked him, didn't like the idea of Sam hurting either. He had always struck her as an unusually gentle guy, for a hunter. That's how she'd known it wasn't him when he'd nearly crushed her wrist.

_Meg_

Dean had said that name like it tasted bad, as though it were poisonous. As though...

"What happened?" She asks Dean, He's leaning against the wall, he looks fucking exhausted and she's glad she came now.

"Dean what did she do to him?" She asks again, eyeing Sam unhappily.

"Everything." He replies hoarsely and approaches his brother's bedside.

She's seen him fight with Sam, Plan and conspire with him, laugh and tease him. But she's never seen this.

He whispers something in Sam's ear and then strokes his hair like her mom used to do when she was sick. Sam stirs with a whimper and his eyelids flutter. Dean leans down and makes eye contact with him, whispering gently. Sam is obviously making an effort to understand what Dean is telling him but not all of it is getting through,

After a while Sam looks over at her and gasps.

"J..Jo!...A...Are you 'K? "

He sounds like he's swallowed a cheese grater.

She smiles and crouches down at the side of the bed.

"Yeah...yeah Sam I'm just fine."

Any fear she might have had was absent. She knew the second she looked in his confused, pained puppy eyes that Sam Winchester wasn't the creature that had terrorized her at the bar.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

_Sam looked on helplessly as the Demon tied Jo's unconscious body to the pillar. She had a nasty bump on her head from where She'd been slammed into the counter. _

_Sam had recoiled so strongly at the act that for a moment he was sure he'd moved physically. But he hadn't, Meg wouldn't allow that...Well ...Not unless she was distracted by the throws of orgasm or playing one of her games. _

_**I hate you!**__ He hissed at her __**Let her GO God DAMMIT! She hasn't done anything to you!**_

_Meg was clearly highly amused by his struggles. __**Sammy, if you couldn't get away while four men were fucking you six ways from Sunday what makes you think you can get away now? Besides...**__ She said lasciviously, becoming aroused at the sight of Jo's limp form. __**Don't you wanna have some fun?**_

_**NO!**__ He screamed as he felt his own mouth curl into a smirk.__** Don't! Meg please!**__ He hated himself for begging but he would do it. He'd do anything to stop her from doing this to his friend. Meg fucking with his body he could take, he could even handle the murder of that poor hunter but this. No, he'd kill himself first._

_**I'm calling the shots Sammy!**__ Said Meg, getting a little pissed now. __**I don't knew about you big boy but I'm kinda keen to use this thing...**__ She palmed his cock through his jeans and he winced at the massaging motion of her hand... __**The way God intended.**_

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

"Don't remember all of it!" He says to her frantically. Trying to turn towards her as Dean attempts to still him.

"Sh... She..." He swallows thickly. "She said she was gonna..." His eyes suddenly fill with tears and his voice almost disappears. "Jo... Did she hurt you too?"

_Did she hurt you too?_

That question is the answer to her own confusion over what happened to him, and why Dean was so reluctant to discuss it. There had been only one thing on her mind while that monster was taunting her. She knew the innuendo and implications too well.

"Oh God!" She breathes. Looking up at Dean helplessly, the look on his face confirming what she had guessed.

"I got there in time Sammy." Dean reassures him, settling him back onto his front. " She didn't hurt you did she Jo?"

Jo shakes her head. "Oh God Sam! No! No She didn't hurt me!" She assures him, trying not to burst into tears.

"I'm so sorry Jo!" Sam murmurs sadly. "So sorry."

She reaches out to touch his shoulder but then she sees the ugly bruising and thinks better of it.

"Don't say that." She says firmly. "I'm fine and it wasn't your fault. I... I just wish she hadn't done this to you."

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Dean checks Sam one more time to make sure he's sleeping. Gathers his bag and lock picks then sits down opposite her at the table.

Jo looks furious. She throws back a long swallow of whisky like it's lemonade and passes the bottle back to Dean.

"So how long will this take you?" She asks, her voice a forced monotone.

"An hour tops." He tells her. "Then I'll need your help to patch him up. I'm thinking if we can get antibiotics and an IV in him that will help."

"I have a friend who works at free clinic an hours drive away Dean."

"Yes, I heard you the first five times you said it...I told you it's too risky."

"And It's not risky treating him in this rat trap? Dean he's _bleeding_, torn up, probably has a doozy of an infection!..."

"Shhh!" He snaps. "Keep your voice down!."

"Also..." She continues in a loud whisper. "He's going to need Blood tests. Have you thought of that?"

He hadn't thought of that but he should have. _Fuck! What if..._

"We'll deal with that later Jo. In the mean time I just wanna keep him safe and off the radar. You think Hunters won't be watching a free clinic? They probably know I got shot..." He winces suddenly as the forgotten pain punches its way back into his awareness.

" Do _you _think they won't take one look at him in this state and realise it wasn't him who killed Wandell?" She shoots back.

"Not a risk I'm willing to take." He replies. "This conversation is over. " He gets up to leave but turns at the door.

"Listen Jo... Just... Thanks."

"it's ok Dean."

"No... I know it can't be easy after what happened..."

"It wasn't him. "

"I know but... What he said there..." There is doubt in his voice. He's wondering what really happened at the bar.

"Dean. " She says firmly, "I'm ok, it didn't try to rape me."

She had hoped he'd relax at this but instead he goes pale as a ghost. It's the word, she realises. That word, dripping on his heart like acid

She smiles at him sadly. "You should go. I've got things under control here. It'll be ok."

"Yeah." He says. "Sure."


	8. Chapter 8

**Part 8 **

Pain and cold and blood.

He wants his brother.

He wants Dean to make it go away like he did when they were little.

But this was bad. Worse than falling off the skateboard, worse than that time he was clipped by a speeding car, even worse than the time he was thrown down stairs by an angry spirit and came to, to the sight of Dad hovering over him, with tears in his eyes.

Dad...He was never there for him, it was always Dean. But when he was hurt, physically anyway. Sometimes then Dad would come through. He'd bandage and stitch and sit up all night soothing and rocking, and sit quietly by hospital beds holding small hands.

He missed his Dad so much. But he knew that if he was here... This would be too much for him, it would destroy him. Neglectful he may have been. But Sam knew in his heart that John had loved him.

_**What would your daddy think of you now Sammy? What would the great warrior think of his little bitch of a son now?**__ She'd asked him as the two men had penetrated him, tearing him, breaking something inside of him. _

_Pain, humiliation and pure terror. Cold in his veins at the thought of John ever knowing. _

_**You know Sammy... He's getting the full treatment downstairs... This is nothing compared to what a few demons on home turf could come up with.**_

He doesn't want to believe her, but he knows demons don't always lie. Not when the truth will hurt more.

Then... a soft voice though the pain. A hand in his hair, gentle and cool , and blonde curls, soft like silk.

She lasts half an hour.

She thought she was tough, but she can't take this. He woke up, shortly after his brother left the room, as though sensing his absence.

"Dean?" He moans the name intermittently.

Luckily the drugs keep him mostly incapacitated but they also keep him tripping balls.

She can't stand the sound of him crying, the hopeless, almost silent pleas that come out of his mouth to _Please Stop! _The appeals for an unresponsive God to _Help! _The repeated apology that no amount of soothing and reassurance can stop him from making again and again _"I'm sorry!"_

Then everything amps up a notch and he starts thrashing, as though he's drowning, screaming for his brother. Her heart breaks when he lets out a cracked and desperate cry of "Dad!"

She sits on the edge of the bed and strokes his hair, she can feel the heat of the fever an inch away from his head.

"I'm sorry! I'm sorry!"

"Shhhh! Sam. You didn't do anything wrong," She whispers in his ear, hoping that her voice will permeate the fog of sickness and drugs.

Then he says it. A breathless whisper. And she feels something snap inside her.

"Mom?"

She's so glad Dean isn't in the room.

Because she knows their mother is dead, and she knows Sam never knew her, and exactly what kind of pain would he have to be in to ask for her? To summon that ghost of tenderness that isn't even a memory.

That's when she picks up the phone.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Fiona is finishing the night shift. She's just about falling asleep on her feet.

Unpaid work kinda sucks when it comes in 12 hour shifts. Still, it comes with the territory when you're an intern.

She lies back in the on-call room, Thank God that night is finally over! A parade of angry drunks, and victims of violence in all its incarnations. Fuck! if she never saw another patient it would be too soon.

As her head hits the pillow her phone rings.

"Shit!"

She looks at the display and raises and eyebrow. Its been a while. She nearly doesn't answer, because she's just too wiped. But Jo Harvelle is the kind of person who'd throw herself in front of a rabid wolf for her friends. So she sighs and picks up.

"Jo?"

_"Hi Fiona."_ Somethings wrong, she sounds distraught.

"Hi hon. Are you ok?"

_Um...Not really...Fi. I know its late and I know you must be really busy and ..._

"Jo... What is it?" She cuts to the chase, to pissed and tired to mess around.

_"My friend got raped."_

"Oh God." Fiona mentally shoots some fucking bastard in the head for visiting this upon her at 6am. "Are you far out?" Bring her in ASAP."

_No...I...Fi I can't..."_

"Why the hell not? You want me to send an ambulance? Jo what happened?" She's really worried now, not liking Jo's shaky tone. "Jo what kind of state is she in?"

_"He...It's a he...Bad Fi...He can't walk..."_

Fiona doesn't even have to think about it.

"I'm calling emergency now. Where are you."

_"Fi just listen to me...We can't come in. You have to come to us."_

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Bone weariness almost takes Dean down halfway back to the motel. It was a lucky break to find a Walgreen's with such a crap security system. Still, It took it out of him and now he's rushing to get back before he falls asleep behind the wheel again.

As he pulls into the parking lot he sees a silver Ford parked near their door. He's out of the Impala , gun drawn, before he's even released he's done it.

_Please be ok._ He prays as he silently approaches the door. Its unlocked, he slowly turns the handle.

He bursts in with a yell, brandishing the gun.

There is a sharp cry and before he knows it He's facing the wall with one arm twisted behind his back, and Jo closely plastered against him, which under other circumstances would be fine but...

"What the HELL!" He shouts. "Christo!"

"Calm Down Dean. Its me! Its ok!" She says through gritted teeth. letting his arm go.

He spins around, furious. To find Sam awake, curled in a ball, a look of pure terror on his face and a young, pretty hot, black chick standing by the table looking almost as freaked out.

"Who the fuck are you?' He demands as he simultaneously retrieves his gun and moves between Her and Sam's bed, protectively.

"This is Fiona." Jo tells him. "She's a doctor... She'd literally just walked in when you bust in 'Terminator' style." She bitches at him.

"Well I am so fucking sorry Jo!" Dean snaps "Who told you to let a stranger into the room?"

"I had to!" She hisses. "Sam's fucking delirious and I though he might have a fucking seizure or something!"

"I was coming back with meds!"

"I didn't know how long you'd take dammit!"

Dean casts a hairy eyeball at the young woman.

"You from the clinic Jo told me about?" He asks.

She nods. He points with his gun at the flask on the table. "Take a sip of that." He orders. At which point it seems Fiona has had enough.

"Jo... I came out here as a favor to you. Not to be threatened with a GUN by this nut case!" She makes to leave the room. "I told you you needed to come out to the clinic..."

"Stop!" A raspy whimper from the bed. "S...Sorry!"

She pauses at the door. Three sets of eyes turn to Sam. He's still plastered against the wall. His eyes wide and glazed with fever, fear and pain. His breath coming in great big gasps.

Dean wants to reassure him, but his throat seems to have closed up, realises he's trying really hard not to cry. He's beside his brother before he can blink. Feeling his too hot, too dry forehead.

"Sammy?" He chokes out. "S' ok sammy. Sorry we were yelling... Scared you... Sorry bro."

He murmurs ineffectually. Wrapping his arms around Sam's frame, which has curled into an impossibly small ball. He's crying now, whimpering something. Dean dips his head to Sam's shoulder and listens.

"Don't tell Dad... Please!"

Dean looks up at the two women. Tears in his eyes. Jo's on the verge herself and Fiona's face has softened, she's no longer leaving. Although he's sure she doesn't trust him any.

"Listen I'm sorry..." He tells her earnestly. "Just... Just these... Monsters... Hurt my brother..."

"Its ok." She says stiffly. "Jo told me you're running from the guys who did this... I don't know what you're mixed up in." She throws a quick death glare at Jo. "But I understand why you're paranoid."

"Can you help him?" He asks. His eyes are begging her.

"I don't know." She says truthfully. "I can assess the damage and tell you if he needs a hospital... I can maybe do some work here. Depends on what he needs."

"I have like... A Whole pharmacy in the car." Dean tells her.

"I won't ask you how you got that." Fiona says with maybe a ghost of a smile.

Jo gets Dean's keys from him and goes out to the car to retreive the supplies while he clings to Sam. Fiona turns and follows her with a determined look. Dean feels really sorry for Jo for a moment.

But then Sam starts crying again.

"So sorry... Sorry Dad!" again and again like his heart is breaking.

Dean buries his face in his brother's hair and murmurs that It's ok. Dad isn't here, and if he was... _God_ If he was he wouldn't be mad. _Not at you Sammy. Never at you. Not for this_

**_A/N: _**

**I just want to ad an addendum in case anyone was worrying. The character of Fiona is NOT going to be a romantic interest. She exists simply to serve the plot and give another POV. **


	9. Chapter 9

**Part 9** She pulls off the bloody latex gloves and thrown them into the sink, then collapses onto her hands and knees and bursts into tears.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

_It was, indeed, an impressive array of supplies. Luckily he had plenty of painkillers that weren't Opiates. The kid was obviously not reacting well to Morphine. _

_He'd also thought of the hardware, surgical instruments, I.V. stands and a lamp. She wondered how much experience the guy had had in emergency medicine. Not many lay people would consider that. _

_She laid what she needed out on the clean sheet of the other, un-slept in, bed. _

_A syringe of Novocaine, Valium, an I.V. bag of saline and broad spectrum antibiotics. A collapsed .I.V. stand, a halogen lamp, suturing needles and dissolvable thread, speculum, cotton swabs, antibiotic ointment. _

_She took a deep breath and tried to think of something calming to still her shaking hands as she scrubbed them in TCP and hot water from the coffee machine, then put on latex gloves. Nothing came to mind. _

_She was never good at this kind of case. She'd dealt with a few at the clinic. Three to be exact. Three traumatized girls who would never be the same again. With that look of betrayal that told of something important being taken away. The damage here was probably worse. Physically speaking, and mentally? Emotionally? It was hard to tell. _

_She'd always had help before. But she wasn't a rookie, she knew what to look for. She knew what to do. That didn't mean she wanted to do it. _

_One look at those sad, frightened, liquid eyes and she nearly ran out the door. He was watching her get ready. His eyes tracking her movements, resting on each instrument of torture in turn._

_**Poor kid.**_

_She smiled at him and slowly sat down on the edge of the bed, beside him. He drew back reaching blindly for his brother's hand like a frightened child. _

_Dean had pulled up a chair beside the head of the bed and was trying to soothe Sam with a litany of clinched but comforting words. Sam didn't appear to be listening but calmed at the sound of his brother's voice. _

_"Just let the doctor do her Job Sammy... She's here to take care of you. I won't let anything hurt you ok? You have to be brave and let her help you." _

_Dean looked up at her desperately. She tried not to look at his face and instead focused on Sam. She smiled again and took his hand between hers. He was shaking. _

_"Sam." She spoke as gently as she could. "I'm going to explain what I'm going to do ok? I won't do anything without telling you first. Ok?"_

_He nodded. He did understand, she could see that, but that didn't mean he would be able to handle what she was going to have to do._

_"Now first I need to check you temperature, can you put this under you tongue for me?" She asked, placing the thermometer in his hand. Giving him as much control over his miserable situation as she could._

_xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx_

_I am the worst person on Earth._

Thinks Fiona. Washing her face in ice cold water. Glad that, for now at least, it was over. He's young, younger than her, and clearly sweet natured. Trying so hard to co-operate despite his terror and pain. She hated putting him through that.

_Not to mention his brother._

Dean had obviously wanted so badly to protect him. But had no choice but to hold his brother still while she examined him. Probing and repairing sensitive flesh that should never have been violated. While the boy wept and panicked until she felt like she was raping him all over again.

She knows how to stitch and clean, how to dress wounds, and she's confident That Dean can handle the aftercare. She had done a good Job. He'd survive... Blood tests pending. But God. She wishes she could have done a better one.

For a start the kid should have been under general anesthesia. She had drugged him up on Valium and applied plenty of local anesthetic. But It wasn't fair to have someone so traumatized go through a procedure like that. At least he's asleep, or more accurately unconscious, now. His head resting in his brother's lap.

Dean sits up against the headboard. Eyes closed, tears rolling silently down his face, dripping off the tip of his nose into Sam's hair. Which he's stroking rhythmically.

Meanwhile Jo sits by the door with a loaded shotgun across her knees. Her face turned to the wall, forehead resting on the door frame. She hadn't looked up once the whole time.

Fiona stands in the bathroom doorway and looks from Sam to Dean, to Jo. And can see that there is some kind of kinship between them. Something more than friendship or family bonds. As though they're part of something bigger, like soldiers from the same platoon.

She wavers, the room swims, she realizes just how tired she is . How many hours has it been since she last slept? Jo is up, beside her, escorting her to the vacant bed.

"C'm on Fi...You did so good, get some sleep." She says, as Fiona collapses onto the hard mattress;

"Got a shift starting." Fiona slurs.

"I'll call you in sick." Says Jo, slipping Fiona's phone out of her pocket. , Go to sleep."

She drifts into a strange blur. She doesn't want to sleep after what she's just seen, but her fatigued body has other ideas.

She can hear Jo speaking on her phone, somewhere far off, feels the bed dip. Someone taking off her shoes and covering her with the blanket. She feels soft breath against her ear and Dean's rough voice.

"Thanks doc."

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Sam wakes early. He opens his eyes to find that the sun hasn't quite risen yet. He slowly moves his head, trying to re- orient himself. He has vague, painful memories of the previous night and isn't sure he wants them clarified.

He feels a pull at the back of his hand and sees that he is hooked up to an IV.

_Am I in Hospital?_ he wonders.

Then he turns to find that Dean is sleeping beside him, and boy does look wrecked.

_Why are we sharing a bed?_

He looks around the room, taking in the ugly wallpaper and water stained carpet.

In the other bed he sees Jo sleeping on top of the covers, propped up, hugging a shotgun, clearly asleep on watch duty. Beside her, dead to the world, is... Fiona... _The doctor._

It all comes back to him in a horrible rush.

_Oh God. No. _

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Everything comes back to him in a split second of clarity.

Possession.

Meg, her Goddammed voice ringing in his ears... His own voice distorted by her.

His throat burning from cigarette smoke and too much neat whiskey.

His eyes burning with unshed tears... Blood on his hands... Blood on the tiles of a night-club...On the sheets of a motel room... All over him.

_Shit._ He has foggy memories of Dean weeping, of Jo kneeling by his bed.

Of begging for forgiveness, that would make the pain stop.

Of rough hands and swift, painful movements, humiliating words... Fingers and teeth and... _Jesus_... He thinks... _I'm never having sex again._

_Never, ever, go hide in the mountains, become a Monk. Or better yet, hide yourself in a cave like a hermit._

_Lock yourself in a box, fall asleep and never wake up again._

He squeezes his eyes shut, willing it to happen, but it's too late he's awake now and with a clear head to boot.

The feverish feeling has mostly gone, although he's damp with sweat and feels disgusting... _Need to shower._

The frightening internal pain he felt last night seems to have been replaced by a dull ache. The Doctor's work. He shudders at the memory.

He feels Dean stir beside him. A murmur.

"Sammy?"

He cant turn and face his brother. Not after last night. He doesn't remember much, but he knows he clung to him like a child, cried, begged for their father... So much for Dean's 'chic flick' rule.

He's so embarrassed. He keeps his eyes shut tight. Dean must be a wreck after this. Like he hasn't put they guy though enough already this past couple of weeks.

"Sammy." Dean's voice muted in a whisper. "I know you're awake."

Sam says nothing, what can he say? _"Hi Bro! How'd you sleep last night? I guess we're sharing a bed cause the other one is occupied by Jo and the doctor who spent most of last night stitching up my..."_

He swallows thickly. Wishing he could sink right through the mattress.

He flinches hard when Dean touches the back of his hand to his forehead, checking for fever. But Dean just moves his hand to Sam's shoulder and leaves it there. Lays there quietly, waiting.

"Sorry." Sam whispers.

_Sorry for disappearing all week, for shooting you... For asking you to shoot me... For putting you though hell last night... For making you cry. _

And yes a part of him that is rational and sane is saying _That wasn't you... It was that twisted bitch Meg, and the stuff last night was nothing to be ashamed of. You couldn't help it. _

But that's not how it feels.

Dean sighs, propping himself up on his elbow. He leans over slightly so he can catch a glimpse of his brother's face.

"Yeah... You're really going to have to stop doing that."

"What?"

"Apologising. I let it slide last night, 'cause you were out of it, but I don't wanna hear it again."

"Sor..."

Sam catches himself. It falls so easily out of his mouth and everything else is so hard to say.

"Sammy." Dean sounds heartbroken, but is trying to cover it with exasperation.

Sam stares across the room at the two sleeping women. They look innocent. Even with one clutcing a shotgun protectively to her chest, cradling it like a child.

He misses Jess then, the memory of gentleness, softness. He'd never known it before her.

He wonders if he'll ever be able to think of her again without wondering... _No... Don't think of her at all if you're going to think of that._

He trys to shut down his brain. He wants to, but now Dean is up and quietly checking his pulse, looking in his eyes, checking his IV and generally mother henning the hell out of him.

"Are you in pain? What about the throat? You feel feverish? Can you sit up? Can you drink some water? You need to use the bathroom?"

"How's your shoulder?" Sam whispers. Ignoring Dean's barrage of questions.

Dean looks at Sam for a moment like he's just sprouted wings and a tail.

"It's fine Sammy. I got a shot of antibiotics from Fiona."

"Hurt?"

Dean is suddenly panicked, eyes wide in concern.

"You hurting? Where? I'll put some painkiller in your IV Wait a second." Dean moves toward the bedside table.

"No..No!" Sam whispers loudly, his throat feeling like sandpaper. "Does it hurt? Your shoulder?"

"Wh..." Dean spins around and rolls his eyes. "No, no it doesn't! Stop worrying about me Sammy. I'm peachy." He grumbles, rearranging the bottles on the table haphazardly. "You need to take care of yourself right now or... Well let me take care of you."

"I'm ok" Sam says automatically. His default response since childhood.

Dean crouches beside the bed and looks him right in the eye, Sam can't stand it and looks away.

"Look at me Sam." Dean says in a no nonsense tone that reminds Sam very much of their father. "Look at me." He puts a hand on the side of Sam's head.

Reluctantly Sam meets his brother's eyes, expecting to see anger, exasperation, disgust.

But it isn't there. Just sorrow, understanding, pity. Sam cringes. This is somehow worse.

"Sammy, you are miles from ok. OK isn't even on the _horizon._ Don't you tell me you're ok."

"So I'm not allowed to say sorry or ok?" Sam smirks to the best of his ability.

"Nope." Dean doesn't respond to the humor, He's dead serious for once.

"Dean I don't know what to say to you." Sam says truthfully, feeling irritated.

"You don't have to say anything Sammy, just... Just don't pretend that this isn't a big deal."

Sam wants to throw something across the room, to scream. How dare Dean tell him how to act, tell him he can't minimize this if he fucking wants to! He knows that if Dean were in his shoes he'd pretend it never happened and punch anyone who said different ,but _he_ can't say he's "ok"?

Sam doesn't say any of this. He's to tired and sore and it's not worth the effort. He turns his face away from Dean's hand, into the pillow .

"Sammy?" Dean asks softly.

"Leave me alone." He whispers, shutting his eyes. Blotting out the sunlight that creeps though the drapes.


	10. Chapter 10

**Part 10 **

It had taken two days of observation before Fiona felt comfortable leaving. She had given Dean detailed instructions for the care of his brother and her private number so she could sneak them into the clinic before they left town. His test results would be back within a couple of weeks.

She left reluctantly. Squeezing Sam's hand. He'd squeezed back and she'd been surprised, more of a reaction than she'd been expecting. She had wanted to feel angry or disgruntled when Dean offered to pay her, but couldn't muster up anything other than regret.

From what little Jo had told her, Dean didn't pay for much. She supposed it could have been taken as a compliment.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

It's been four days since Jo arrived and now she's leaving. Holding back tears as she silently packs up her things. Loathing to leave them alone in the silence of this awful motel room. She hopes they'll talk after she's gone. But God knows what there was to say. She sure as hell didn't know. She wasn't one for chick flicks either.

"I'm going now." She whispers to Dean. Sam is asleep again, or pretending to sleep. One or the other.

He's sitting on his bed cleaning his gun again. Damn thing must be worn to a nub at this stage. He nods his head and says nothing.

She crouches by Sam's bed and lowers her mouth to his ear. Dean looks up, curious.

"You need to talk, you come to me." She tells him. Hoping he's awake to hear it.

She walks to Dean then, and says nothing but squeezes his shoulder once and walks away.

"Jo."

She turns at the door. He's not looking at her, his gun the most fascinating thing he's ever seen.

"There's nothing I can do to thank you enough for this...Ever. "

She swallows the lump in her throat.

"No need." She murmurs as she closes the door.

At a rest stop five miles out of town she pulls over and weeps for a long time. Then calls her mom. Its been over a week since Ellen has heard from her baby and she sighs with relief when she sees Jo's number.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

It's been five days since Sam got out of bed and started doing things for himself again, and he still won't talk beyond monosyllabic replies to direct questions. He won't let Dean out of his sight and follows him everywhere like a sad, silent ghost. Dean knows he should engage him more. Try and make him talk about it, but he can't bring himself to rattle those chains. Sam's in enough pain already.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

It's been three weeks since Bobby Singer has heard from his boys, and he's starting to get worried. He starts calling around. Just to make sure they haven't been ganked by some pissed of hunter.

He heads over to the roadhouse to talk to Ellen.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Jim Farley had heard a lot of tales over the past couple of weeks concerning a certain Steve Wandell. A good man by all accounts, a family man, and an even better hunter. Always ready to help out, even if it was just a place to stay or some research to be done. He had a lot of friends in the hunting community.

Now he was dead. Murdered by one Sam Winchester.

Jim hadn't met the man but he'd heard the rumours. In fact he realised that he'd heard the rumours a day or two before the man actually died. That's what gave him pause.

Or at least that was one thing.

Secondly , there was the insistence by Ellen Harville that Sam Winchester couldn't have had anything to do with it.

"Utter Bullshit." She'd called it. "Gentle as a lamb that boy. Hardly able to slap a gnat. It's a wonder he ever ended up in the life."

He'd trust Ellen Harville with his life, _had_ on several occasions. He'd trust her as a judge of character too. After all, hadn't she warned him about Gordon Walker and his crazy friends, and helped him dodge _that_ bullet?

The third thing was that once, in his youth, he had been helped out on a hunt by John Winchester.

He'd been 16. He, Uncle Dennis and Dad had been hunting a Wendigo when they'd got separated in the Blue Ridge Mountains. He'd gotten lost. Disobeyed Dad and left camp when he thought he'd heard the beast. He'd known it was stupid. But he wanted so badly to kill the thing. To do good for once.

By the time he came to, he was already bound by the wrists and underground. His father and uncle had called in backup.

It had been John Winchester who found him. Who freed him while the others had taken care of the creature. It had been Winchester who had taken his shaking hand and walked with him through the dark network of caves. Step by tiny step, keeping him calm with stories about his own boys. Brave, well behaved Dean and rebellious Sammy who, according to John. "Would have pulled exactly the dumbass move you did, but sooner."

When they got back to camp, it had been John Winchester who had wrestled Jim's father to the ground when the belt had come off to punish his son's foolishness.

No one had ever stood up for him before.

So he couldn't believe it. No son of John Winchester, rebel or not, would have killed a good man. Although God knows, life will make you do things you never thought you would.

So, he thought, there must be another explanation, and if those idiots at the roadhouse weren't so blinded by rage and grief and the desire for revenge they might see it too.

So he'd taken an interest when he'd heard talk of the Winchester's car being seen near Canton. He thought he'd check it out before any of Steve's friends did.

That was how he found himself loitering in the parking lot outside the free clinic

He'd gone in for a clap test here once. He knew he was stupid, and he knew he was fucked up and yet he consistently made the same choices that would lead him back to free clinics and pissed of public health nurses with their warnings about HIV and Hepatitis.

_Yeah yeah_...He thought._ I know I've been lucky. But hey, somethings gonna take me down one day. _

In his heart he wasn't sure if he cared.

Dad would have cared. Not about the risk of disease, about Jim's manner of acquiring them. About his mortal soul.

Dad had nearly killed him when he'd found out about Jim's penchant for men. Nearly beaten him to death.

After that Jim had kind of kept it discreet. And the less people knew the more weird shit he found himself getting into. Dangerous shit. Meeting up with strangers from craigslist, orgies, hookers, sometimes all three. Not that he couldn't handle himself.

So he's standing there by the entrance smoking, and eyeing the Winchester's car.

The door opens and the older one stalks out like a pissed off panther, glancing around in paranoia. He moves around the car and opens the passenger door, offers a hand, and a skinny arm grips his as a tall figure exits the vehicle. A curtain of floppy air hiding his eyes.

He walks close to his brother, not an inch of air between them. The older one _Dean_ keeps slowing his pace so the kid can be his shadow. As they get closer Jim starts feeling uneasy. Then he sees why.

Jim's jaw nearly hits the ground.

_It's the Same kid. _

The cocksure rent boy from the Motel a couple of weeks ago.

The one he'd nearly...

_Oh Mother of Jesus! _He quickly averts his eyes and hides behind the magazine he's holding.

They pass right by him , he follows them in.

He's surprised they don't realise they're being tracked, two hunters of their reputation. They're off their game that's for sure. To his surprise they seem to be heading for the same office he went to for his clap test.

They are apprehended by a young, female doctor in the hallway and he walks right past them and sits down in the waiting room. He can head them though the doorway.

" Ah... Glad I caught you." She says hurriedly. "Don't worry about the paper work I'll take you now." She tells them. She sounds worried. The three of them walk past him and disappear into the small office. Dean has his arm tight around the kid's _Sam's_ shaking shoulders.

"How come they've just arrived and get to go in before us folks!" Complains a woman in the corner.

Jim stares at the office door, wishing he could hear what was going on.

_The same kid. right down to the clothes and the hair and the mole on his cheek. _

Goddamn! He wonders for a moment about fate. What were the odds of two hunters hooking up without knowing it? _Two hunters and a bunch of butch dudes they met online._ he corrects himself.

They're only in there a couple of minutes and he very nearly gets caught staring.

They look relived. _That's good._

They're talking quietly. The girl gives the young one a gentle pat on the arm and he jumps like she's slapped him. She pretends not to notice.

The older one hugs her. She looks like she's going to cry. She goes back to the office.

All the while he's staring, unaware that the kid has spotted him.

He briefly makes eye contact. The boy's whole body shudders. His eyes widen in shock. He looks away and grips Dean's arm. Dean wants to know what wrong and Jim braces himself. But Sam doesn't say anything. Just tugs on his brother's sleeve like a child who wants to leave.

They do.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Jim sits in his car and chain smokes, trying to still his shaking hands.

Sam had been shaking too. He hadn't been nervous the other night that was for damn sure. He'd been sure of himself, cocky, arrogant and there had been something horribly knowing and predatory in the kid's eyes. That was why he'd left.

Not so now. Not at all. The thought hits him light lightening .

_Not the same kid. _

Either Sam Winchester has an evil twin or... Or... _Oh God._

Possessed. He Should have seen it. That night Jim had seen something he didn't like about him, about the whole situation, and left him alone with those... His brain wants to say _"perverts"_ But in his heart he knows he's just as bad as them. Worse. Especially now.


	11. Chapter 11

**Part 11**

Half an hour out and he still hasn't said anything. He's resting his forehead against the edge of the window and looking out at the moving landscape. It's cold but bright out. Blue sky, little wooden houses , red barns and grain silos. Like something a child would paint.

Dean can't remember seeing his brother look more defeated.

He clears his throat.

"Sammy?"

No reply. Dean knows he has to say something but he's fucked if he knows what.

"I know it doesn't seem like it now. But this was a good day. This was a win Sammy."

Sam doesn't move. Dean sighs as he puts his foot down. Wanting to put as much space between them and that town as possible. He wonders if Sam had been disappointed that he hadn't picked anything up. Maybe he'd been hoping for a death sentence, or some painful punishment. He hasn't said "Sorry" all day. That's a record. But Dean can see it in his eyes. Shame.

"Sam." He tries his most no nonsense tone. "You _will_ be ok again. Maybe not for a while, but eventually."

"What are you, a fucking pop physiologist? " Sam murmurs acerbically at the window.

Dean sighs, losing patience a little. "I know... I don't understand what you're goin' through ok...I know that but..."

"DEAN!" Sam yells suddenly, slamming his hand down on the dashboard. Causing his brother to jump and swerve a little. "I do NOT want to talk! "

"Okay!" Mouths Dean quietly, both eyebrows raised in surprise. "Fine!"

"I mean..." Sam growls. "Lip service is all very well Dean but we both know how you feel about chick flicks. "

"Sam..."

"I mean... It would be SO much easier if you give me a PEP TALK and this just disappears and we never speak of it again right? "

He sounds furious. But Dean knows him too well. Dean knows anger too well. Sam flinches as Dean signals suddenly, veers off the highway and skids onto the hard shoulder.

He must look pissed 'cause Sam takes one look at him and bolts out the door. He's not fast enough and Dean grabs his sleeve. Sam, half in the car half out, stares at him and his eyes are bright with fear and rage and confusion.

"Come on man! Don't be an ass!"

Dean pulls at his sleeve to try and get him back inside and Sam pulls away.

"Y... You should have killed me back when you had the chance! When Meg gave you that gun!"

Sam shouts. Emotion making him stutter, He can't hold it together, his face crumbles into tears.

Dean wishes he could articulate the love he feels for his brother at that moment. The sadness and fury he feels that someone could have hurt him this badly. He wishes, more than ever now, that Dad was here... He'd have dealt with this horribly but at least he'd have cared. He wishes they had a mother, someone to wrap them up and kiss them better.

They don't . All they have is right there on the hard shoulder of an anonymous highway and he's dammed if he'll let it slip away from him.

"Sammy!"

He chokes on the word and roughly pulls Sam across the seat. Not heeding his ribs he holds him tight, squeezing him for all he's worth. He might not be able to talk Sam out of the hole he's in but he can...

He's crying. Dammt! He's meant to be the strong one right now. Sam is hyperventilating into Dean's shoulder. Like when he was little and fell or bumped his head and thought it was the end of the world. When Dean was bigger than him and would wrap around him like armour and try to absorb the hurt.

No armour can protect him now. The damage is done. Not much to do but hold tight and ride it out.

"I...I...I'm go...Go...ing crazy." Sam sobs.

"No you're not...Shhhh..." Dean soothes and squeezes him even tighter.

"Th...Thought I s...Saw him." Sam whispers, hiccoughing through his tears. Dean pauses momentarily.

"Saw who Sammy?" He asks, as calmly as he can despite the creeping cold tendrils of fear in his chest.

"The Man...S...Saw the _Man_!" Sam breaks down completely then and Dean cant get a coherent sentence out of him again.

The man._ The dead man_... Thinks Dean. _Whoever he is. _

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

It's hours later, Sam doesn't know how long it's been since they left the clinic. but he can see the sun setting through the motel drapes. He's tucked in, like he's five. The TV is on. The lights are dimmed.

He is aware of his brother next to him. Lying on to of the comforter, engrossed in some crappy soap opera, playing on low volume.

He doesn't remember how he got here, of much about the day at all. Except the numb fear at the clinic before Fiona read out the results of his blood test.

He knows he should be relieved, but right now he can't feel much of anything.

He's been crying , he can feel his eyes are swollen. His nose still running. _Nothing left inside. _He feels empty, but lighter than before. Like somethings been lifted. He doesn't want to speak or move. He feels strangely calm in this moment. Even so, he finds himself turning toward Dean.

Dean is staring at his show, unaware that Sam is looking at him. Sam takes in the dark rings under his brother's eyes, the stress lines around his mouth. The sheer exhaustion radiating off him.

_I did that. _

"Dean?" He whispers.

"Hey Sammy." Dean smiles at him sadly. ''Did the TV wake you?"

"No...Dean?"

"Yup?"

"Thanks."

Dean looks confused. "What for?"

"Just... Thanks." Sam replies, unable to properly articulate what he's thankful for.

Dean shrugs and turns back to the show. But Sam can tell he's not really watching it. He's fidgeting now. Clearly something is on his mind.

"Sammy?" he asks quietly. Never taking his eyes of the screen.

"Yeah?"

"I want you to tell me what happened."

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Its like a bolt of lighting just nailed him to the bed. He can't move. He stares intently at the water stained ceiling There's a stain up there that look like Mickey mouse's head.

He takes a breath. "I can't."

"You can." Dean tells him. Sam feels Dean's hand on his arm. "Of course you can tell me Sammy."

"I...I don't know where to start." He says truthfully. Focusing on the stain, he can't bring himself to look over at Dean. He can hear him clear his throat before he speaks and knows he's getting emotional already. He can't possibly tell him. Dean feels bad enough.

"In the car... You said something about a man?"

The memory of that face, back in the clinic. _Couldn't be him, just... Couldn't. _

_"_ Thought I saw something at the clinic, just... Must have been my eyes playing tricks. "

"You thought you saw a guy?" Dean prods._ Leave it alone Dean!_

"Yeah...It...It wasn't him, couldn't be."

"Who was he?" Dean flat out asks. "Was he the one..." _Who hurt you?_

_"_N..No." Sam replies shakily. He has a hard time evading direct questions and Dean knows it.

"No?"

"He left." Sam whispers.

"He left?" Dean repeats back to him. His voice is soft, but Sam can feel the hand on his bicep shaking. Sam swallows thickly.

"There were five of them and one left."

"F... Five?" The hand on his arm is starting to hurt.

"There were four after he left."

"Four men?" Dean's voice is monotone.

"Yeah."

"They were the ones who..."

"_Meg_." Sam interrupts, the words coming out in a rush. "Meg... They _thought...They_ didn't know... What they were doing... But that guy,,, That one guy could... Could _see_." And I was _screaming_ at him! And telling him I..." He gulps, trying to steady his voice. "I didn't want to be there and he... He just ... _Left_ and I...I..."

Sam is aware that he's babbling. He can see himself from the outside and he thinks: _Hysteria... Panic attack. _He feels like there's pressure on his throat and he can't breathe.

Dean is rubbing his arm gently. He can feel Dean's other hand on his chest, over his heart. That's what Dad used to do when they were kids, when they ere scared.

"It's ok Sammy, you're doing real good." He tells him. "Real good... Take a deep breath... In... Thats right... Out... Good... In..."

He feels his heart rate slowing down. He breathes for a couple of minutes in silence, Dean never moves his hands.

"Keep talking Sammy." He says firmly.

"I can't!" Sam is disgusted by the pathetic whimper that just escaped from his throat. _Pathetic! Pathetic little bitch! _

"What happened after the guy left Sammy?"

_Sammy... Sammy what would your daddy think of you? What would pretty little Jess think? You think she ever felt like this?_

"She made me... She..." He can hear his voice as though he's not even in his body, as though someone else is speaking. "I fought her. I really did Dean."

" I know you did."

"She made me suck them off." He gasps, as though it took physical effort to say it. "It... _Hurt._"

"What else?" Dean's voice is rough, Sam shuts his eyes tight so he won't see him.

"She... Made me... She let them... All of them..." Bile is rising in his throat._ Don't get sick, don't throw up. " _One after the other then_..." Time for some real fun boys. Don't worry Sammy... Won't let you bleed to death. _"Then." He sobs. "Two at once."

"Two at the same time?"

Deans monotone cuts though the memories and Dean's hand is gripping his arm so tight he's going to have bruises but Sam doesn't care.

"Again and again, for hours... She... She _liked_ it... All of it. "Sam's voice is barely audible.

"So that means she made you like it too?"

Sam nods his head, gritting his teeth wordlessly.

"Open your eyes Sam."

He won't, he can't do it. he feels like he's going to die from shame. Dean gives him a gentle shake.

"Look at me Sammy!"

Dean's voice breaks, and he sounds so desperate in that moment that Sam does what he asks and looks directly into his bloodshot, tear filled eyes.

"Not. Your. Fault." Dean slaps his hand over Sam's heart three times.

"I know." And Sam _does_ know.

"That evil Bitch got off on torturing you."

"I know."

"Ok." Dean nods once, gripping Sam's shouders almost violently. He's frightening in his intensity. "Nothing you tell me could make me ashamed of you. You understand?"

Sam nods.

"I'm proud of you."

"What?" Sam asks in surprise. _"Why?"_

"You keep taking hits that would kill most people and come back up swinging every time." Dean tells him.

"Thanks to you." Sam says quickly.

"You're damn right thanks to me! Where do you think you got the attitude from?"

Sam laughs then, despite the tears running down his face.

**End.**

**A/N. Epilogue to follow. **

**So... I don't know where this came from, or how it got so out of hand. I feel quite awful for doing something so horrible to even a fictional character. In any case it had to come out I guess. Considering it started as a porno fill, I think ( hope) I did ok handling the subject with a degree of tact. Thank for your feedback everyone who commented. It makes me feel like less of a scumbag to know people liked it. Apologues for the grammar mistakes.**


	12. Chapter 12

**A/N: **

**Here's the epilogue. Thanks for reading and reviewing everyone. ErisandDysnomia I don't think it was anything specific, just that what Meg did threw doubt and confusion on his previous experiences. **

**Epilogue:**

_Two months later. _

Bobby had tried everything to get the boys back to South Dakota. He'd_ begged_ Dean. But there was always something else to do. A hunt, a hunch to follow, an errand that took them to the other side of the country. He knew they were avoiding him. Well, not _him_ exactly, but the subject he was bound to raise.

Ellen had been shaky the morning he'd visited. When she saw him walk in she'd chased Ash out of the room, poured Bobby a half a tumbler of whiskey and asked.

"Is he ok?"

"Is who ok?" He'd replied. Like a prize idiot.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

It takes nine weeks of fretting before they show up at his door. Finally.

He's been working on a car, a normal, non supernatural, activity for once. When the impala rumbles up the drive.

Dean exits the car first and just stands there, like he's scared if he approaches Bobby he'll get punched. Then Sam gets out. He's lost weight, his shoulder's hunched, head down. He just stands there looking at Dean then glancing at Bobby then quickly down at his nervously jogging foot.

Bobby approaches them and the first thing he does is hug Dean, who looks like he's about to faint in terror.

"Don't look at me like that boy! I aint gonna eat ya! " He tells him, giving him a slap upside the head for good measure. Dean smiles, it doesn't reach his eyes.

Bobby turns to Sam, who is standing the other side of the Impala, as though the car is a shield of some sort. He's eyeing Bobby doubtfully. Bobby knows why.

_You wanna know if I'll look at you different now huh Sammy?_

He sighs and walks over to him.

"What? No hello for your uncle Bobby?" He teases, pulling the boy into a hug, pretending not to notice that he flinches and stiffens in his arms.

"Well?" He asks them. "What you waiting for? Get your asses inside and get settled. I'll follow you in soon as I'm done here."

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

He gives them ten minutes to get their shit unpacked and makes his way inside. He sees yet another message on his cell from Jim Farley . The guy's been investigating Wandell's death, he knows Bobby is close with the Winchesters and would very much like to speak to Sam. _Fat chance._

Bobby's pretty certain that the hunting community has accepted that Sam was possessed. But that didn't mean there weren't some fucking morons out there who'd still want to take it up with him.

He puts them in the spare room. Falling asleep easily for the first time in weeks. _They're back under my roof, safe._

He wakes up in the early hours, it's still dark outside and he can see the full moon glinting. There's a sound from downstairs. He takes his rifle from under the bed and creeps down the hallway. Sneaking a look into the spare room as he goes. Sam's bed is empty. _Kid must be up and about still._

Dean is asleep, fully clothed and half propped up against the headboard, a revolver beside his hand._ Ready for anything. _He wonder's how long it's been since Dean got a real nights sleep.

"Shit!" Bobby breathes. He skillfully flicks the safety on, and takes the gun away without waking him. Then he takes the boy's shoes off one at a time, re-positions him comfortably and pulls a blanket over him. Dean moans in his sleep.

"Sammy!"

"Shhhh! Its ok kid I got it." He tells the sleeping form of the man he considers a son. _Stand down soldier. The battle's over._

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Sam is awake, watching TV on mute in the dark. Sam's eyes are glued to the screen. The blue light throwing his face into stark relief. He notes the kid's concave cheeks. _Shit. He really has lost weight. _

He looks up with a start when he hears Bobby walk in.

"Couldn't sleep huh?" Sam nods.

"You want a beer kid?" Bobby asks.

"Yeah." He looks up with a forced smile. "Yeah thanks Bobby."

Bobby doesn't try and talk to him. He just hands him a cold one and they kick back and watch a re - run of the game. This seems to please Sam and he loosens up some and even gets a little animated over the action on-screen.

Bobby watches him surreptitiously. The way he curls his arms around himself, he never used to do that, or worry his lip either. Kid's fingernails are bitten to the quick. He picks at some twine around his wrist constantly. Bobby wishes he could get his hands on the demon again, just one time.

Sam's fiddling with that twine again and Bobby realises , with a jolt. That it's one of the anti possession charms he gave them . Sam has tied it to his wrist.

"Sam?"

The boy startles, gulping down fear.

"Yeah Bobby?"

"You keep that on you all the time?" He points at Sam's wrist.

"Y... Yeah. I do." Sam mumbles. Suddenly ducking his head so that damn mop of hair covers his eyes.

"You know..." Says Bobby " A lot of people who've been possessed... Who've _survived_ being possessed, find they don't feel secure enough with just a charm."

"Oh...Ok." Sam whispers. Drinking his beer like he isn't falling apart inside.

"Some of them get a more permanent soulution...Like a tattoo." Bobby explains. "Now most of them will never need it, but It makes them feel safer. Added insurance. You get me?"

"Y..yeah...I do. Thanks Bobby." He sounds genuine. Bobby can see him breath a sigh of relief out if the corner of his eye.

They watch the game. Say nothing for a while. Then he pipes up.

"I...Um...I do, you know... Worry."

"What do you mean?" Asks Bobby.

"About her coming back. They'll often come back to the same vessel... If they're still alive."

"That's true. But I don't think you need to worry."

"No?" Sam looks over at him then. Incredulous.

"Nah... Meg had a type. Young women in their early twenties. She took you took to make a point. But I doubt she'll be back. Demons tend to stick to type, can't resist their fetishes."

"I've been thinking about her." Sam says quietly.

"Meg?" Asks Bobby. Saying the name like a curse.

"No! Not her... The girl... The one she was riding."

Bobby swallows thickly. He feels nauseous.

"I...I guess I wonder soemtimes... What she was thinking while Meg was ...Y' know. What kind of person she was." Sam continues.

"Well." Says Bobby. "She was probably a good kid. Just going about her business like everyone else. Just happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time.'

Sam gulps down some beer. He nods stiffly. "I guess you're right."

"It's too bad."

"Yeah."

They sit in silence, each waiting for the other to speak . Sam starts to fidget. Bobby looks up to find that he's staring at him with the _saddest_ freakin' look on his face.

"Kid?" He asks softly.

"Bobby." Sam says, his voice breaking. "I...I can't ask Dean but..." He cuts himself off, like he regrets saying anything.

"But what Sam? It's ok you can tell me son."

"Bobby do you think Dad's really in Hell?" It comes out in a rush. Bobby hadn't been expecting that.

"Sam" Bobby sighs. "Demons..."

"Lie" Sam finished for him "Yeah I know that, but do you think _she_ was lying?"

"Sam..." Bobby wants to sugar coat it but Sam never could tolerate being lied to ."I...I don't know."

Sam nods his head like this confirms all his worst fears and rubs his sleeve over his eyes.

Bobby sits there in silent shock for a few seconds. Wishing Sam hadn't asked him that question outright. He knew in his heart that it was true. So did Dean, and that tore him up inside. But he had hoped to keep Sam uncertain a little longer. To protect him.

_Yeah, and a fine job you've done of that. _

He should have been told God dammit! He should have been there for his boys! As it was little Jo had been forced to handle it , and he had to admit she and Dean had done good. Sam was alive after all.

But truth was, he was still angry that Dean hadn't told him. Bunch of kids shouldn't have to deal with something like that. Ever... Especially not a kid like Sam.

"You know he used to call you "Serious George?" He blurts out.

Sam stares at him like he's just sprouted wings. "What?"

"John... That was his nickname for you when you were a baby. On account of the big deep eyes and the very rare occasions of laughter."

Sam chuckles then. "I...I don't remember that."

"You wouldn't, you were tiny. I remember he had to stop 'cause Dean would get upset." He mimicks a small childs voice. "His names not George! It's _Sammy_!"

Sam snorts. But he's smiling. The sight warms Bobby's heart.

''Quiet, but stubborn as hell, like your dad."

Sam's eyes darken at that.

Bobby takes a swig of beer. "I worry sometimes that I didn't give you enough attention, I was so focused on giving Dean some semblance of a childhood..."

"Bobby..." Sam sighs. "You... Don't... Just don't."

"No really. You know you were such a quiet little thing, I forgot you were there sometimes. You didn't laugh much but you never cried much either, unless your brother left your side. Sensitive kid, took everything to heart, but you kept it inside... You know that's why she chose to _you_ to torture right?"

_Torture_. He can't bring himself to say the other word.

Sam nods, he can't speak. He bites his lip hard and starts peeling the label off his beer bottle. He turns in his chair so he's facing the window.

"You know he always said he'd haunt my ass for all eternity if he died I let anything happen to you boys."

He hears what might be a laugh or a sob.

"And I let you down. I should have known better after all the exorcisms I've been a party to. I should have kept you at the house and made sure..."

"No!" Chokes Sam. "Not your fault." He sniffs loudly and wipes his nose on his sleeve. "No one's fault." He concludes.

Poor kid. John would have died. When Sam was small sometimes he'd catch John staring at him with this worried look. He was always afraid something would happen to this innocent little thing he was carrying around with him in this dangerous world. It was the reason he'd been so against Sam leaving for Stanford.

_"Anything could happen out there Singer! And without Dean or Me to protect him!" _He'd ranted, when Bobby had tried to get him to think like a sane person.

John had loved his boys fiercely but he'd been a lousy father. It had always been Dean who kissed the boo boos, beat up the bullies and mended the broken hearts over the years. With John hanging back a distant second.

Bobby's heart broke for both of them. Sam and Dean. An injury to Sam always hurt Dean twice as much. In fact, sometimes he thought it was the _only_ way to hurt Dean. The kid put up such a front.

"You're right Sam. No one's fault Including yours, you know that right?"

When Sam doesn't reply Bobby reaches over and grabs his arm.

"You _know_ that don't you Sam? That _nothing_ that happened from the moment that bitch jumped you was your fault?"

Sam turns to him with those same sad eyes that had bemused his father all those years ago.

"I know..." He says. "I know _logically_ but sometimes it feels..." He doesn't finish the sentence. Letting it hang in the air between them.

"The thing is Bobby... What... You know if what she said was true and Dad is down there then..." He wipes his eyes again trying to hide the tremors in his hands.

"What do you mean Sam?" Asks Bobby, observing the quiet breakdown with a combination of fear and sorrow.

"What if she _tells _him?" He sounds like a frightened child.

"_Sam._" Says Bobby gently. "You know John would have been heartbroken... 'Cause someone hurt his baby. Nothing else. "

Sam hides his eyes in the crook of his elbow and shakes his head. "You don't know that." He whispers. "He was always disappointed in me."

"Never!" Bobby says stridently. "Not even for a moment. He_ loved _you boy! He was as proud of you as a father could be. Of your brother too. He told me once that he didn't know how you two grew up so good with him never being around."

"I guess it was you then." Sam smiled sadly.

"Me?" Asked Bobby nonplussed.

"The reason we grew up good." Sam says with a twinkle in his eye. "Well the reason_ I _grew up good. _Dean_ on the other hand..."

Bobby laughs at that.

"We'd better not laugh to loud, we'll walks him." Says Sam. "He needs to sleep... He's been kind of an insomniac lately. Sleeps sitting up with a gun across his lap. "

_And there it is._ Thinks Bobby. _One sleep deprived, half starved, walking-wounded kid worrying about another._

"He's not the only one who needs sleep Sam." Bobby tells him in an admonishing tone. He turns of the TV and turns on a dim lamp. "Why don't you lie down on the couch?" To his surprise Sam doesn't ague and does what he's told. Then he remembers that Sam always was good when it came to bedtime. He quietly covers him with an old rug thats sits by the armchair. Then sits down and opens a book.

"You not going to bed Bobby?" Sam asks quietly. Already on the edge of sleep.

"Nah son. I'm catchin' up on my research, don't you worry about me."

Bobby doesn't read much that night. He's too tired. But that's ok. Sometimes you stay up and listen out so other people don't have to. It's just one of those things you do for family.

**FIN.**


End file.
